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ANNALS
OF IOWA
VOL. VII, NO. 5. DES MOINES, IOWA,
APRIL, 1906. 3D SERIES
YOUTH TIME
IN FRONTIER IOWA
BY GEORGE C. DUFFIELD
I would like to show how, before the
establishment of industries, markets and schools in Iowa, the youth of the land
were managed, and how they were made into anything but ignorant, thriftless
members of society.
"Defense," or some equivalent, is an
ancient word. Such works as the Great Wall of China prove the statement. Half
way around the earth from, and ages after the time of the erection of, the first
defensive structures known, civilized life began in America behind defenses
contrived from tree trunks, and " stockades " became the symbol of
safety against the American savage. These wooden defenses were pushed on, so to
speak; ahead of the establishment of society until they disappeared with
savagery itself. In modified form, however, these defenses became merely
"fences," with the plain function of protecting and controlling
property. Since my youth, passed in Iowa immediately after the abandonment of
stockades, and before the erection of fences, greater change has come over the
materials and construction of fences, and in the methods of caring for and
handling live stock, than probably occurred before. From 1837 to 1842 our family
went through a ceaseless effort at "improvement." In daytime the year
round the heads and hearts of the elders were set upon the preparation of
materials and the erection of fences and cabins, while the muscles of the youth
were given no rest from the same plans for improvement. During the winter nights
the family joined in the effort at mental improvement which, in the absence of
better school privileges, sufficed to prevent relapse into illiteracy among all,
and to advance the younger ones in the rudiments even before school came. I have
spent nearly seventy years in one Iowa locality, during the greater portion of
which I have kept a daily journal of personal and local transactions, and I feel
qualified to deal with some of the interesting phases of the two things for
which I have seen Iowa celebrated—agriculture and education.
Nearly every settler came into the Chequest Creek
settlement by a cattle team, the team often consisting of an ox and a cow.
Indeed, it was not rare to see an ox and a cow, a cow and a bull or either of
these and a horse or mule coupled together and bringing into the country some
family whose name was to become an ornament to the community and State. When
father brought us across the Des Moines river in April, 1837, the two yoke of
oxen and "Old Jule" constituted the largest collection of domestic
live stock then west of the river. Samuel Clayton had an ox, but there were no
other domestic animals. " Old Jule " found a colt the second night
after we landed, and this was the first in the territory.
After we were settled in our new cabin and had our
first crop planted, with my brothers, from almost the smallest to John who was
grown, I was put at constructing a "defense." Not a defense against
the Indians who were living all around us, it is true, but against our own
stock, and that of the other settlers; from the Indian ponies, the herds of
deer, and the elk that remained. And the protection of crops, while a great
problem, was not the only one. Acquiring, increasing and identifying domestic
animals was an immense and important work. A few hogs, for instance, would be
brought into this new country and turned out into the open with those of other
settlers, where the woods, the streams and annoying enemies encouraged them to
shun the settlements; to recover these animals was difficult and required a
system of identification forever gone from Iowa. The difficulties increased with
the population and with the numbers of live stock. For the year 1840 and prior
thereto, I can find no property lists among the archives of Van Buren county,
but I can recall some fifty families who settled west of the river. Let me
relate an experience which was had by every pioneer boy, I suppose, of those
times. Suppose some morning one of our oxen "come up missin '."
"George," from father, "you and Jim go hunt Ol' Buck." That
meant that we should call the dogs, take the rifle, and visit all the neighbors.
It might mean going into unsettled portions of the country. Buck usually
"turned up " near the cabin of some neighbor. But sometimes even after
years had passed, a notion seemed to strike even the most faithful ox or horse
to wander eastward out of the settlements. As we lived near the Des Moines
river, our stragglers were usually found in the dense timber along its west
bank. But settlers who lived just across the river were many times obliged to go
to the banks of the Mississippi, along the "big bottoms," for their
straying stock. I never heard of stragglers wandering out of the neighborhood
westward. When seen to the west, it was accepted as prima facie proof that they
had been driven or led by thieves. So, not finding Buck at the neighbors, we
plunged into the river timber. Mark the care we were taught to practice in
noting any fact or object that might serve some friend as well as ourselves.
Striking a pathway leading east and calling the dogs, I, being the older, led
the procession. And being more cunning I yield in feigned reluctance to Jim's
earnest plea to " let me carry the gun awhile. " I know his weariness
will increase as we come nearer the best hunting grounds. We go along in single
file until the path fades out and the ridge it follows, breaks into many others,
dropping toward the river. I "rest" Jim of the rifle and follow down
one slope while he takes another running in the same general direction, but some
distance away. Presently from him or me in strong falsetto, " Hoo-OO-ohoo,
" with its hundred diminishing "hoos," from the echoing hills in
all directions. "Hey," in jerky response. To that, "Red steer,
" is yelled back in reply. " What mark ? " " Crop off
both." "He's Martin 's." Then silence again except for the sounds
of the woods. I turn toward a clump of brush screening the head of a
"holler. " Out from the lair of leaves with a crash, and with a
guttural challenge which one would suppose could come only from the hungriest of
bears, comes a long, gaunt sow. She advances a few feet from her nest; her
bristles up and her snout in the air. The vicious "chomp, chomp," of
her great jaws; her quivering frame; the flash from her mean little eyes all
look the demon of danger that l know she is—not. "Booh;" and up the
hill and away she goes. I knew her trick. I raided her den, and amongst the
leaves, prone on their bellies and "possoming" were her offspring. The
mother had, by showing fight, given me an instant's view of her big flat ears.
"Hoo-OO-hoo," again rang through the woods. "Hey," from Jim
barely within hearing. "Sow 'n pigs. " "What mark?" "Underbit
in both. " "Bernie Rucker's," and silence again. In time again
came the salutation, and to my " Hey, " the answer, " Buck !
" We "cornered" the ox in the open woods as two agile boys could
do by keeping always one in front of him. One held his horn as he stood in mock
captivity, while the other "cooped it" up his neck and over his
withers. The other, with the boy on top as a "holt," and he with the
gun as counterbalance, made easy work of the last one getting on. The steer knew
the way home better than we, and knew quite as well what was expected of him. He
would never think of running away or turning around, but he knew and availed
himself of every opportunity to scrape us off under grape vine or leaning tree.
Reaching home, we may not have fired a shot, for indeed
we little expected to. The gun had served father in securing our quick and
willing compliance with his request to go, and rid us of any secret cowardice.
In the same way many a family had a gun that served the single purpose of giving
courage to the inmates, and dismay to any designing visitor of the
cabin. Detailing the most minute circumstance of our
trip it was the family habit to note everything exactly. Each one remembered
each animal described; its color, spots, marks, brands and size, and could
detail the same with an accuracy equal to the one who personally saw with his
own eyes. The first one of our family who saw one of the Martin or Rucker family
or any other person, detailed to him the full facts. By such interchange the
whole neighborhood kept in constant acquaintance with the whereabouts of each
respective settler's stock, and the presence in the locality of any straggler;
and these facts were even passed along from settlement to settlement by
"movers." Thus it was common for emigrants who had come through Fort
Madison and were passing west to say to father '`I hearn tell of a stray 'fork
an' under bit in the left an' crop o' the right' ox as I come by West
Point." And it is interesting to note with what ingenuity the ears of stock
could be mutilated, * and with what accuracy and readiness all such marks were
observed and recollected by each settler. These marks are made by cutting off
portions of the ears, or by slitting them in various ways. Each settler adopted
a peculiar mode of marking his animals, as cattle, hogs and sheep. Horses were
not subjected to those mutilations. Marks were recorded with the same care and
by the same officials as land titles were in early days. The traps formed by the
Mississippi and Des Moines rivers for the stock straggling back along the routes
traveled into the country, were, I suppose, responsible for the most careful
observance of the customs as to estrayed stock. They had their influence on the
legislation of the new Territory. As illustrating the stringent penalties
against conversion of another's stock, as well as inferentially to show the
pioneer's relative esteem for his domestic and property rights, I refer to
Sections 36 and 84, Acts of the First Territorial Assembly. There it is seen
that if a man or woman, being single, take the wife or husband of another, the
offender might expect nothing more than a fine of five hundred dollars and a
year in prison. But if the man or woman take from a neighbor "any horse,
mare, gelding, mule or ass, he, she or they so offending shall be fined
not exceeding five hundred dollars, and moreover shall be imprisoned for a term
not exceeding ten years." We broke twelve acres of land in 1837, and
planted it in corn, wheat and potatoes. By 1838 we had three head of horses,
five yoke of cattle and twenty-five hogs. Our neighbors had from a single ox to
as much stock as we. The land was open to the Pacific coast. Hundreds of deer
visited the salt licks, and the springs and streams of the locality. Deer would
leave the finest wild pasture to ravage growing crops. So the first two or three
years there was serious danger of crop destruction from the small acreage
compared with the number of animals named, and from other enemies such as bears,
raccoons, squirrels, bile jays and woodpeckers. From the planting to the
gathering time, and even after that, the settler's crop was preyed upon day and
night by a horde as, hungry as himself.
So, after the little patch of twelve acres was planted
father took his boys into the woods along Chequest. With axes, mauls and wedges
preparations for defense commenced. The first ground plowed was the least
timbered, and except the few trees standing in the way, no timber had been cut.
Now we were taken into the tallest, straightest timber that could be found, and
about the middle of May were put at work. We were kept at it until the middle of
the next May, then resumed without interruption for another year. The younger
ones, charged with the chores, errands and lighter work about the claim, were
not kept at it so early and late as those older, but for father and the grown
sons there was little respite for the first few years. While we were as honest
as the rest, settlers could not tell which land belonged to the government, no
surveys having been made. Indeed, after the surveys, it seemed as if the best
rail timber stood just over the line from the settler's claim. From on and off
our claim, and from the finest growth of oak and walnut we made thousands of
rails and stakes. In this way I got my lessons, as many of my neighbor boys did,
in expert wood chopping which we put to so much use in later times as
"steamboat choppers" along the lower Mississippi.
In making rails as a business we scattered through the
woods. Some two or three applied themselves to felling, trimming and cutting
into ten foot lengths selected trees, and disposing the "cuts" in
convenient places. Then came the two who did the actual splitting. One of these
usually started his iron wedge into the top of the cut and mauled it in until
the wood began to crack open. The other with an axe split out the crack and
severed the splinters still holding, unless the log was large or tough, when
another wedge was started toward the butt of the log in the end of the split and
driven in. By experience in selecting and skill in splitting, the settlers could
work up logs making four, six and often more rails by the sole use of the axe,
except in starting the split in the top each time. When the log was finished the
rails were at once hauled to the proposed line of fence, though in after years
when rails were made at odd times, they were always carefully laid on their
backs to season straight. In our first fencing, it was the task of one boy,
often myself, to follow up with oxen and wagon and load the rails as fast as
finished.
We'll remember the work. In bare feet, bare hands and
well nigh bare body, how one tugged and grunted with the heavy rough rails;
scratching and tearing the skin, sweating, slapping yellow-jackets (wasps),
fearing snakes, dodging "pizen vines" and "talking Spanish"
to the oxen. This was a boy 's part in the fencing of our patch.
On the side of the claim where the fence was to remain
much care was taken to be accurate in locating, and correct in laying up the
fence. But as the patch was enlarged each year, and the fence consequently
removed so as to surround the added part, the temporary portions were laid up
with more haste than skill. A settler dropped down and made a ring of rails. His
neighbor did the same. Both enlarged their rings' and so all over the country
these rings expanded until they began to "jine." They finally
surrounded every acre of improved land in Van Buren county. They were
established in the heart of the timber, and on the prairies miles away. They
were begun on the plan of fencing live stock out, and they, on the passage of
"stock laws," were made to fence stock in. When hedges were introduced
about the beginning of the civil war, other fence than rail could be measured in
rods. Until the introduction of wire in 1879, fully 95 per cent of the improved
land was fenced with rails. And rail fence was the standard of improvement
whether of the little patch like ours in 1837, or the great thousand-acre farms
like those of Timothy Day in the 70's, to improve which required 2,500 rods of
fence erected from four to six miles from the timber where it grew. Because
there were not a hundred rails made last year in Van Buren county so far as I
can ascertain, and only as expedients were any rail fences built from old
material I venture to deal with the subject with much minuteness.
But to return to the fencing of our claim. Along the
side of the patch which was to remain, a "stake-and-double rider"
fence was built. This was the standard rail fence then and so remained. Other
kinds, however, were in frequent use for special purposes and will later be
described. The course of the fence being designated by markers or guide stakes,
often by blazes on the trees, a "worm-stick" * is provided. This was a
perpendicular staff, sharpened at the lower end to admit of its being stuck into
the ground when so desired. The fence-builder sighted across the top of this
stake and shifted it into line. It marked the middle of the "worm" or
foundation. Near the bottom of the staff, and inserted in a hole through it, was
a stick two feet two inches long which, turned to the right or left, at right
angles with the course of the fence, located, at its outer end, a "corner.
" Taking up the worm-stick, and moving it forward some eight feet, and
turning the horizontal piece to the other side, located the next corner. The one
of us who laid the worm placed a stone or "chunk" at each point thus
located as a corner, and on this was laid the ground rail. The one who laid this
rail selected the largest and heaviest, and used great care in placing it so as
to insure a good foundation for the rails placed later, and so the fence could
be made tight. The big end of the rail was always placed forward, the smaller
end on the top oŁ the rail last laid. If there was a crook in it, it was turned
up because the large crack necessarily made by the crook could more easily be
stopped by laying a chunk on the ground than by fastening anything between the
first and second rails. The worm thus laid was in a straight course, yet made of
ten-foot rails, each overlapping the other about a foot, described a zig-zag of
panels and each two rails or double panel formed a rod in the length of the
fence. Returning to the place of beginning, five or six rails are laid up, the
smaller and straighter ones at the bottom. Before the next rail is laid on the
fence is "staked." That is, at each corner, and two or three
feet on each side, a piece is inserted in the ground some ten inches, and being
eight feet in length is leaned across the corner, the two thus forming an
"X" over the corner and resting on the rails. In the cross thus formed
is laid the smaller end of the next rail, the larger and forward end upon the
next corner. Then, this corner is staked and so on. Again going back to the
beginning, the largest, roughest and heaviest rails are laid in on the
"riders," forming the 4' double-rider." This is the fence which,
when "pig tight, horse high and bull strong," was the "buncomb"
fence of the rail fence age.
There were two other "worm" fences with their
special uses. The "lock" or "rough-and-ready" and the
"shanghai." The first of these was constructed exactly like the
"stake-and rider," up to where it was staked, and instead of
"staking" it, the rider, or often a long heavy pole, was laid
lengthwise of the fence on top, and stakes leaned into the angle formed by this
rider and the rail it crossed, thus locking the rider against rolling or
slipping off. It was more hastily made, but was not as secure against wind. The
"shanghai" fence was a stake-and-rider fence, but instead of a
"ground chunk" there was set up a block or fork three or four feet
high in which the corner rested, thus dispensing with the first four or five
rails. This was proof against the larger animals only, and was used in hastily
protecting grain stacks or as a temporary restraint for horses and cattle.
Besides the worm fences, there were two styles of rail
fence commonly used, and many others rarely. Of the two, one was the " buck
" fence and the other the " post-and-rail. " Of these, the first*
was in use in connection with the stake-and rider, but on steep places or where
for other reasons the stake-and-rider might not stand. It was started by
crossing stakes -over a log or stone, and into this cross placing the smaller
end of a rail, the larger end resting on the ground in the direction the fence
was to take. Across this rail as was done over the log or stone, and some four
feet therefrom, other stakes were placed, its end also on the ground in the
course of the fence. Continuing thus, a fence was completed that could not be
thrown down. It presented the appearance of cheval-de-frise, was made of refuse
timber, and was a useful and effective wood-pile against the wall.
With his back to the wood, his long legs stretched out
into the circle of light, his clasped hands supporting the back of his head,
sits father, next to the fireplace jamb. Between his knees, sitting on the
floor, is a child of five. To his left sits his mainstay and eldest son John,
who from his lithe, strong form and black shiny hair and eyes might almost be
mistaken for an Indian. Next to John a younger brother or sister, and so around
the circle, the rest of the children on the floor, except Maria, robust, plain,
modest daughter and companion of mother, as John is of father. Maria has a
chair, and in her lap is a baby brother of perhaps three. Between Maria and the
jamb to her left, opposite father, sits our mother. I wish the picture of an
ideal frontier mother might be placed on canvas. The only rocking-chair the
cabin boasts is hers. A child asleep at her breast has dropped his head back
upon her left arm, to support which she rests that elbow on her knee, and this,
with more of comfort than of grace, perhaps, she has thrown over the low arm of
the chair. The left hand holds an old worn "blue-back" Webster's
Spelling Book. The other holds a greasy, flickering tallow candle. Its little
flame adds nothing to the fire's glow upon her face, and takes little from the
shadow on the page before her eyes. As she rocks to and fro she pronounces the
words. Father on his side nods and half sleeps until some member of the circle
becomes inattentive, or the fire burns low. The lesson began with half a quarrel
between the elder and younger children as to whether mother should commence to
"give out" words at "baker," or from some easier or harder
page. Such quarrels always ended the same way, mother discreetly commencing at a
point no one had chosen. The class began with Maria. Then William, Joseph—I
might as well tell it as it was—it was Maria, Bill, Jo, George, Jim, John and
even little Harry, who, in this manner, learned to spell every word of one
syllable in that old book, without knowing one letter from another, and before
he ever saw a schoolhouse. Round and round that circle would go the words. At
first the short, easy words, missed by no one for perhaps half an hour. During
all this time each boy and girl may have been cracking and picking
"goodies" from his hoard of nuts hidden in the fall, each in his own
secret place, "under the bed where no one can find them. "
Nevertheless, all attention is fixed on voices of mother and speller, and an
error in the spelling of a word was detected instantly; likewise if mother
skipped a word or pronounced them out of their order on the page, it was known
at once. No playing or visiting was tolerated; A breach of the rule, and
"Bill!" "Libbie!" or "George!" was shortly
accentuated by a heavy but not painful stroke from father's open palm. In an
evening while the words flew round that circle, its lines would be driven
outward by the greater heat and glare or the dying sparks from new chunks thrown
on by father. Or the line might be driven in by the cold upon our backs as the
fire died down. One from the line might hustle up the ladder to his store of
nuts and back again. Another might skip to the water pail and back into his
place, but never a word be dropped in the lesson. True a word would often be
misspelled. But no one ever missed his turn at trying. The system involved no
persistent application, nor did it cover a great range of learning. But with
such a teacher, such an enrollment, such a course of study, and such a house,
the frontier settler had to put up until the schoolhouse came. Even with the
poor light, the crowded hearthstone, the differing proficiency of the children,
and that single text, wonders were accomplished in nearly every
cabin. Sixty years have not effaced from my memory the
way such an evening ended. When mother thought it time to go to bed she skipped
along to the harder words. Tired little heads droop over upon others' shoulders.
The youngest in the laps of elders have gone to sleep. Mother and Maria have
carried their sleepy burdens to their proper beds. Father has heaped the
greenest, wettest sticks upon the fire. Maria draws the chairs into their proper
nooks, and into the fire, darkened and crackling with the fresh wet fuel, sweeps
the shells and litter from the evening's play. These flash into a brilliant
flame. Within the shadows are the elders, and out in the full glare the
youngsters racing to be first denuded. With the sputtering of the last shells,
Maria tucks the covers tightly round the children's forms. With chattering teeth
we are "spooned up," three in a bed, hoping to keep from freezing. It
was in fact to steam and sweat until frost fringed the edges of our covering.
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